Weathering the Storm:
Chapter Two

DG frowned at the green-clad doll clasped in her hand, its little thread mouth frowning blandly back up at her. "Let the Light flow through me, he says," she muttered, then opened her hand and focused, trying to coax the brilliant energy of her magic back to the surface.

It worked, for one exhilarating moment: the hem of the doll's dress flew outward, belling out as it began to spin, floating in the air just above her widespread left hand. Its tiny dark braids, probably modeled after the way she'd worn her own hair in the year it was made, whipped gently at her fingers as they whirled. She held her breath, trying to feel what was going on under her skin as she lifted it, hoping that it would last longer than the other attempts she'd made that morning.

So of course it didn't. The doll sank in the air again, gradually slowing despite her concentration, and she hastily snatched it from the air before it could fall. Whatever the 'Light' was, exactly, it sputtered and faded too quickly for her to get a good mental grasp of exactly what she was doing to summon it. Just as it always did when Az wasn't right there, helping her focus.

DG could unscrew bolts when she was afraid for her life; or accidentally draw life back into withered branches; or hold out her hand and compel her sister to take it; but in a non-life-threatening situation, it appeared she was sunk. At the rate she was going, she'd never learn to master her magic in time for-- well. Whatever it was she was going to need it for next. Probably sooner rather than later.

She shuffled her feet a little in the damp grass of the garden path, curling her toes in her slippers, and tried to shut out the chill seeping through the stiff fabric. She'd refused to let them take her leather jacket away from her, and she'd insisted on wearing trousers rather than dresses or skirts for anything other than formal events, but her mother and the householdful of servants she'd quickly reassembled had had their way with almost everything else. Between the fine fabrics, embroidery, gems, beadwork, jewelry, and other fancy changes to DG's wardrobe, she looked nothing like the Kansas farm girl she'd been only a month before. Her new clothes had seemed pretty at first, if a little impractical, but after two weeks of them she was really starting to miss her blue jeans and sneakers.

Her father had advised her to be patient; that she'd adjust to being a princess again, and to the differences between the other world and her native one, before she knew it. He'd made that transition himself, after all, so he should know whereof he spoke. He'd also talked about how her mother, and their people, needed something normal to fixate on after breaking free of the fear and oppression they'd been living under for the last fifteen annuals... and that if making sure their heroic princess looked like a princess helped with that, she owed it to them to let them.

But what about a little normality for me? she'd wanted to ask.

She might have been born in the OZ-- maybe even right there at Finaqua, for all she knew-- but she barely remembered those early years, and most of the memories she had recovered were kind of traumatic. She'd had friends in Kansas; not many, but a few. She'd had a job there, even if it didn't pay well, and she'd had her community college courses. She'd had Momsy and Popsicle and her attic room in the old farmhouse, even if it had never really felt like home. She'd had her machines, her motorcycle, and the freedom to do all kinds of things that didn't even seem to cross the minds of the proper, well-raised Ozian girls she'd met since her parents started pulling the Court back together. All of that was gone now, vanished in the travel storm that had brought her over.

And what had she received in return? New friends and family mostly too busy to spend time with her, and a bunch of responsibilities she knew she wasn't ready for.

DG felt the warmth of tears pricking at the back of her eyes again, and shook her head hastily, dragging her wandering thoughts back to her magic practice. Someone would come looking for her soon. It would be time for lunch shortly, and after that she'd be back in 'princess lessons' until late in the day. The Queen had let her have a couple of days off to adjust at first, when they'd all been so relieved to have survived and reunited the family, but it had pretty much all been politics and history and watching her mother make decrees ever since.

At least she'd already known how to draw, ride, and write her name in fancy calligraphy thanks to her-- well, thanks to her 'nurture units', so she had a minimum of the skills 'appropriate to her station' covered. She'd also insisted on going out under guard to directly help with the rebuilding at least once a week. That had kept her from going completely insane due to the rest of her new schedule.

The one area she didn't have covered was practical magic, since Tutor had said he he'd be teaching only background concepts until she mastered 'letting the Light flow'. As far as DG was concerned, though, that old saw was about as useful an instruction as 'clear your mind, Mister Potter'. Still, she'd been trying to work on it whenever she could catch a moment alone.

She might as well have been the star of that Other Side book series, though, for all the good the visualization was doing her. DG focused on the miniature figure one last time, willing it to lift out of her hand yet again, and felt nothing different than she had any of the rest of the times she'd tried that day. Or the day before, or the day before that. Concentrating on her magic brought a spark of warmth traveling down her arm; from there it spread through her hand and sank into the doll as she concentrated, giving off a faint, brilliant glow. But even just noticing it seemed to be enough to make it sputter and stop again; no matter what she did, the effect only lasted a few seconds. She had no idea how she was supposed to let anything 'flow'; it wasn't as though her magic actually came with any literal valves or handles to open.

Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe it was one of those skills that you just couldn't pick up past a certain age. Maybe she would always have to have her sister around to help her take care of any serious magical workings.

And maybe the people wouldn't have a problem with that, when it came time for DG to take the throne? Yeah, right.

Since her mother had harvested her memories of the showdown on the balcony to create viewing discs and hand them out across the OZ, the petitions for Azkadellia's immediate execution had dropped off, but they hadn't completely stopped, and her sister still wasn't able to go out in public without at least a dozen guards. That probably wasn't going to change anytime soon, either. There were plenty of people who weren't happy that the Lavender Queen was back in power, and not all of them were Longcoats. It was only a matter of time before the rumblings turned into another resistance movement.

Put all that together? DG was pretty sure she was going to end up on the throne sooner rather than later. Her mother might not think she'd connected the dots yet, but she could count. Cain had been locked up in his suit eight annuals ago, when Az was twenty, less than a year after Az had imprisoned the Queen; Glitch had been Glitch instead of Ambrose for about the same amount of time. But the Sorceress had tried to kill DG with Az's hands fifteen annuals ago, and the Fields of the Papay had started failing long before Cain had joined the Resistance. She'd learned that much before she'd even been back in the Zone for a week.

So why the gap before her sister put together her coup? It couldn't all have been waiting for her to grow up. DG was pretty sure the answer was... that it took that long for people to notice the Queen wasn't using her 'Light' to fix things anymore, and had voluntarily started backing the Heir Presumptive, who still had her magic. That problem, unfortunately, hadn't gone away when the Witch melted.

What would happen when the euphoria wore off and everyone realized that the Queen still didn't have any magic? They'd look for another savior, that was what. And who had she given her power to? Who had healed that tree in the Fields? Who had officially been named Heir Apparent in the introduction on the viewing disc? DG!

Nevermind that she hadn't known at the time that the reason the Catacombs were so well hidden, and that her mother had been so vague with her directions, was that the journey to earn a token from the Grey Gale was part of a magical quest to confirm a Queen's successor-- one that Lavender had intentionally withheld from Azkadellia after DG's death. The only unusual part had been the nature of the token; people had been waiting for the reappearance of the Emerald for nearly five hundred years. Azkadellia may have technically 'held' it during the eclipse, but DG was the one who'd found it, and their mother had made sure everyone was aware of the distinction.

Because of that, she was the one the people would turn to when magic was needed again, whether she-- or her mother-- was ready for it or not. So she'd better be able to do more than just defend herself when that happened.

It made her feel sick to her stomach, thinking about it. And a little cheated, too. She got that her nurture units had more or less been ordered to raise her safely on the Other Side, and to make sure she was prepared to return. But why had they decided that a handful of old stories qualified as preparation? She didn't know anything about ruling a country. Either their programming-- or her mother's orders-- had been seriously ill thought out. It was her life, and she was totally unprepared to live it, thanks to a bunch of people who should have known better.

DG stuck the doll back in her pocket and dashed frustrated tears out of her eyes when she heard soft rustling noises approaching through the flowering shrubs behind her. It was time to put her princess face back on; the last thing she wanted was for someone to catch her crying. She took a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and turned around... only to meet the dark, knowing gaze of her sister.

"DG," Azkadellia said softly, studying her with a sympathetic twist at the corner of her mouth.

"Az." She took a deep breath, letting her smile fade, and stepped forward to take her sister's hands.

Az allowed it without hesitation. The connection sprang up between them the way it always had, alive and constant the way DG's magic never managed to flow on its own. "Good afternoon, little sister," she said. "How are you feeling today?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" she replied, remembering the news that had arrived at the palace the evening before.

Az glanced away, the shadows in her eyes deepening. "You've heard, then."

"Yep. I was there when Jeb's message came. He said they found Zero's suit empty, and that there was evidence a bunch of Longcoats crossed the Crack from there into Winkie country several days ago."

Heck, the news had creeped her out, and she'd barely met the ruthless Longcoat general; Az had known him a lot longer. She could still feel his grip on her shoulders, if she thought about it, and see the knowing smirk he'd shot at her sister when Az had ordered DG taken away for interrogation.

A shiver passed through Az's silk-clad shoulders. She was wearing a simply styled white dress that covered practically every inch of skin from neck to toe, drastically unlike anything the Sorceress would have chosen. The deliberate contrast gave a little color to her face, but she still looked unhealthily pale at the topic of conversation. "Not all of them were evil, you know," she said, quietly. "Most of them were decent men when I gave them-- when the Sorceress first swore them to her service."

"Even Zero?" DG had to ask.

"Even Zero," Az said, meeting gazes with her again. "He was-- I think Father would have called him a 'patriot'. As was General Lonot; he was one of mother's closest allies before I-- before the Sorceress suborned him to lead her Longcoats."

DG wrinkled her nose at even that much of a sympathetic presentation of the man who'd been responsible for so much pain in Cain's life, though it agreed pretty well with what she'd been thinking about the consequences of her mother's loss of magic. She didn't feel quite as guilty about that as she had back in the Resistance cabin when Raw had shown them Glitch's memories of the takeover, but it still depressed her as few other subjects could.

If her mother hadn't chosen to spend all her magic saving DG, Az could never have won... and maybe all her Longcoats would have become Tin Men, instead. They'd never know, now, all because a five year old girl had insisted on going looking for trouble. She was sick of dwelling on that, though; and there was something else she'd been meaning to talk to her sister about.

"It's okay, you know. You can say 'I' to me; I'm not going to hate you for it."

Az flinched, her eyes widening as she tried to pull back from DG's grip on her hands. DG refused to let go, though; that little verbal tick of her sister's was only going to get worse if someone didn't woman up and address it, and it wasn't likely to be their mother, much less any of the new Court advisors or their ex-Resistance guards. Or even their father, who seemed to totally inhabit the role of the passive Royal Consort. She didn't entirely buy that; but whatever Ahamo actually did-- whatever he'd done besides wait for her and drink the last fifteen years away-- definitely didn't involve open action.

"How can you say that, after everything I-- that she--" Azkadellia replied, face tightening with dismay.

DG shook her head. "You had the Witch in your head for how long?" she asked. "You were only what, thirteen when she took you? That's more than half your life. It's not like our parents were there for you much after it happened, either; from what I saw in the mirror, it looked like Mother had figured out something was wrong with you even before you killed me, but after she saved me it was too late for her to do anything about it."

She paused and squeezed Az's hands again. It was still difficult for her to think about that that-- the killed thing. Dead. Zombie DG. Welcome to the nightmare.

"I don't blame you for listening to her," she continued. "Blame me for dropping your hand in the first place, or Mother for not making sure someone had an eye on us every second we were out of the palace, if you have to blame someone. Or even Father, for not sticking up for either of us when Mother decided to send him away to set up the Quest."

Az swallowed. "They both act as though I stopped aging when it happened," she said. "That I don't remember most of what happened in the last fifteen annuals; that the Witch was in full control of my thoughts and actions all that time."

DG blew out a breath. "But she wasn't," she replied, carefully. "I know she wasn't; otherwise you wouldn't have been able to fight her, at the end, to take my hand."

A pained line formed between her sister's elegant brows. "It took time for me to learn how, and for my magic to mature enough to make it possible," she admitted, quietly. "But after a time, I found that when I felt strongly enough about something she wanted to do, I could stop her, or at least-- encourage her to do something slightly less awful instead. I think it makes it easier for Mother, though, to pretend I never had a choice. And I-- it's easier for me, too, to let her. I can't-- I don't know how to tell her that--"

"It really was you she was talking to, some of the time," DG finished the sentence for her when it looked as though Az wouldn't be able to.

Az looked wonderingly at her, then nodded in comprehension. "On the balcony, before we discovered your memories were blocked--"

"I didn't understand it then, but I wondered later, after Finaqua," DG confirmed. "I remembered how your voice changed afterward, when you said it was the wrong answer."

"DG, I let her torture you," Az whispered, pained.

DG's lip wobbled a little, and she waited a moment to reply, to be sure of her answer. It was true; DG would have nightmares for years featuring that evil little smirk on her sister's face, of the moments of pain and terror and weakness she'd experienced that long week at the hands of the Sorceress and her minions. But she would also always remember the lost look in Az's eyes as the Emerald's green light had streamed up around them, and the sound of her sister's voice begging DG not to let go. Either neither of them was innocent-- or they both were.

"Ditto, sister mine," she said thickly, "and for a whole lot longer than that."

Az started, and looked as though she wanted to object; but DG just shook her head and pulled her into a brief, tight hug. "It's okay," she repeated. "Water under the bridge. I just wanted you to know, you don't need to lie to me about it. About any of it. Even if you, you know." She blushed against her sister's shoulder. "With this Zero guy. I don't want anything to ever come between us again."

Az stiffened, then relaxed enough to chuckle darkly against her. "No, though not for lack of interest on his part. I caught him staring at me sometimes, as though I fascinated him." She shivered. "The Witch said it made him more loyal, and I-- I used that against him more than once."

"I'm sure he deserved it," DG replied, kind of relieved about her sister's answer. It wasn't that Zero was bad looking, or anything; he had that blond-haired blue-eyed thing going on, like Cain only sharper featured, and wore all that leather pretty well. The vicious creepster part, though; her sister deserved better than that. "I hope they catch him soon. So. Have you had lunch yet?"

Az pulled back, blinking moisture out of her eyes. "No," she said. "I wanted to tell you-- your friend Raw is here; he has returned from the Viewers with an ambassadorial party, and Mother's invited him to join the family for the midday meal."

"Raw's here?" DG exclaimed, startled out of her melancholy mood. Her smile brightened as she began mentally penciling him into her day; surely she'd be able to relax her schedule a little with him at the palace. "Why didn't you say that in the first place? C'mon, let's go pry Glitch out of the library before they start without us! We haven't all shared a meal together since we left the Tower."

Az shook her head as DG took her elbow and began pulling her toward the nearest palace entrance. "Why don't I meet you in the Family Dining Room? I doubt Ambrose wants to see any more of me than duty requires of him."

Best begun was half done, Popsicle would have told her. DG snorted and fixed her sister with a stern look. "Nonsense. He was telling me just yesterday that you were always his best student, even after I died; he was never afraid of you 'til you started taking over the Zone. He's been remembering more since Raw helped him, you know; and he says he misses those lessons a lot."

"Truly?" Az asked, a hesitant note in her voice.

"Truly," DG assured her, and opened the door with a smile.

She'd just have to sneak back out again later to practice her magic some more.

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